


Dracula Never Had To Deal With This Shit

by outsideth3box



Category: Stargate Atlantis/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Allergies, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Biting, Bloodplay, First Time, M/M, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outsideth3box/pseuds/outsideth3box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>400 year old vampire John Sheppard meets Rodney McKay while out on the hunt one night.</p><p>Notes at the bottom of the page tell more about the warnings, but are also spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dracula Never Had To Deal With This Shit

Dracula Never Had to Deal With This Shit

 

 

The Hellmouth. A literal opening into Hell. Powerful magics sealed it from the human world, kept the demons and powers of evil from boiling over, from setting loose Hell on Earth. It thrummed with power, leaking through the magical shields, thick and malignant and very attractive to those beings whose innate natures seethed with evil. Every kind of demon that lived, or un-lived, in the shadows of the human world was drawn to the Hellmouth to soak up its dark energy.

But some wanted more. Much more.

****

John sauntered along the street, inhaling the night breeze and pondering the strange buzz in the air. It made his skin feel itchy and odd, as though the Hellmouth energies were off somehow. That could be bad. Very bad. John made a mental note to research relevant prophecies later.

Looking around, he smiled, watching the delicious-smelling humans scamper about, oblivious to the death walking among them, brushing their sleeves as they moved innocently through their busy little lives. His hunger roared as he listened to their heartbeats, the thud thud, thud thud of life's blood flowing through their veins. It made his mouth water.

Eyeing the light crowd leaving the cinema for a potential victim, John saw an almost-familiar face, and suddenly felt a pang. He missed hunting with a partner. He missed the thrill of the joint chase, the mutual kill. Gregory, his Consort, had shared his love of the slow seduction hunt and they had prowled the streets for over a hundred years, playing with their prey and each other until sunrise.

Gregory had died the true death over one hundred years ago at the hands of a canny vampire hunter. A stake to the heart and a shower of dust before John's horrified eyes had been the end of his beloved companion, and his unlife had been lonely, dark and tortuous ever since.

John pinched the bridge of his nose against the painful memories assaulting him.

_1890 ~~~_

_"Master John!" The cowering minion bowed as he entered John's sitting room. John closed his book and set aside a wine glass full of dark liquid._

_"Speak."_

_"You must hurry! Belmont is in town and is right this moment following Master Gregory. He witnessed him feeding and has set his sights on your Consort."_

_"August Belmont, the infamous vampire hunter? He is after my Gregory?" John rose from his seat, ringing his bell loudly to summon his butler._

_"Exactly that, Master." The minion nodded._

_"Where?"_

_When the butler entered the room, John snapped, "Bring my coat and call for my horse immediately. I need to be off this instant! Hurry!"_

_The butler ran, terrified._

_John took two rapid steps, caught the minion's arm and casually snapped it. The minion howled. "I asked you where. I'll wait no longer for your reply."_

_"I-I last s-s-saw Belmont following M-Master Gregory into the old warehouse on D-D-Dunmore Street, Master!"_

_John drove his horse hard and pulled up near a side door. He paused a moment to allow his demon visage to come to the fore, his facial bones crackling with the change, his fangs emerging. With his improved night vision he slid silently into the warehouse._

_He didn't even need his vampire hearing to pick up the noise of a scuffle in the back corner. Something fell, clattering, and a man's voice called out, "I do not fear you, demon!"_

_The sound of Gregory growling in pain hurried John's steps. As he turned past a pile of carriage parts, he saw a splash of holy water land on Gregory's face. Gregory screamed, his flesh sizzling, and he raised his hands in protection, falling back against a stack of wooden boxes. John ran, but before he could cover the space between himself and the fight, the hunter darted in and thrust a wooden stake directly into his Consort's heart._

_In that instant, Gregory looked up and spied him. "John!" He was reaching out his arms toward John even as he exploded into a rain of dust._

_"Noooooooooo!" John cried out as he closed in on the hunter. "Gregory!"_

_Agony burst through his chest as if his dead heart had suddenly started pounding with grief. The hunter whirled to face the new threat, but was too late. John grabbed him by the throat and knocked the stake from his hand, slamming the man against the wall and growling in fury._

_"That was the last mistake you will ever make, hunter! From now on you will suffer for the loss of my Consort, pain will be all you know for the rest of your life."_

_Belmont struggled against John's superior strength to no avail, then let go the hand around his throat and reached toward his coat pocket. John grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind him, leaned down into the man's face and snarled, "Your paltry toys will never help you again. You belong to me now."_

_John moved his grip from the man's throat to his jaw and slammed his head back twice against the wall and Belmont slumped into John's arms. He picked the man up, carried him out to his horse and slung him over the horse's hindquarters. Rummaging in his many coat pockets, he found a short length of rope and quickly tied Belmont's hands. He could smell blood from the back of Belmont's head, and knew he would remain unconscious for some time._

_John returned to the warehouse, to the corner where rested the pile of dust that used to be his Consort. He fell to his knees, howling his grief; his chest ached with the pain of a severed bond._

_After a while, he stood and began to search the warehouse for a container of some sort. He found an empty sack, into which he gathered Gregory's remains with shaking hands, tied it tightly closed, and then returned to his horse. Belmont was still unconscious and John grinned, plans already whirling in his head. Shaking off his demon face, he mounted his horse and headed for home with all good speed._

_Once there, John called for his minions to take Belmont to the cellar and shackle him tightly. Meanwhile, he carried the dust-filled sack to his sitting room. On the mantel over the fireplace sat a lovely Russian samovar that Gregory had picked up during their adventures. His Consort had loved tea and had a collection of the finest leaves from all over the world. This made the samovar the perfect resting place. John carefully transferred the dust from the sack and replaced the vessel on the mantel._

_Stepping back, he rang the bell for the butler, who appeared almost instantly._

_"Bring me a glass of warm blood and call the Kint'oc sorcerer, I have need of his services. Tell him to come immediately."_

_"Yes, Master."_

_While John sat, waiting for the demon to arrive, he sipped his glass of blood and contemplated the samovar. Rage boiled in his gut and his demon visage rose. His hands shook with anger and he stood, flinging his glass with all his vampire strength to watch it explode against the wall, splattering blood everywhere. Next, he grasped his chair and threw it across the room, watched it crash into a glass cabinet sending crystalline shards scattering. He stormed throughout the room, turning over tables and chairs, smashing wooden furniture to splinters. Glass items were crushed in his bare hands and beneath his boots. He roared his fury as he went and didn't stop until the butler peeked around the edge of the door to inform him that the Kint'oc demon had arrived._

_The demon stood behind the butler, silently observing the destruction from under its hooded cloak._

_"I have come at your command, Master John," the demon said, its gravelly voice low and respectful._

_John pulled himself together, clenching his bleeding fists tightly. "Yes. Tarrisz, I need a spell. I want you to cast a silence spell on this house, so that sounds from anywhere inside will not reach the ears of those passing by."_

_"A silence spell on the whole house, Master John?"_

_"Yes. I have acquired a human toy, down in the cellar, that I wish to play with. But I don't want the sounds of his screams to pass my front door."_

_"You do not wish me to simply cast a silence spell upon the cellar, Master John?"_

_"No. I wish to be able to relax in my sitting room," - he looked around at the mess - "as soon as I have it refurbished, and listen to his screams as if they were the loveliest violin."_

_"As you wish, Master John," said Tarrisz. It pulled a black physician's bag from under its cloak and, moving to a clear spot on the floor, began pulling out jars and pots of ingredients in a variety of colors._

_After the chanting was done and the smoke cleared, John tested the silence spell. He sent the butler out to the drive, called one of his lower minions and proceeded to break several bones in the minion's arms and legs. When the butler returned, he assured his Master that he had heard nothing of the minion's shrieking, so John pronounced the spell acceptable. The demon, sensing John's impatience to be at his play, simply assured him that it would send a bill before hurrying away to other business. John headed for the cellar, leaving the butler to drag the screeching minion off to the minions' quarters to heal._

_John allowed his tread to fall heavily on the stairs to the cellar, the better to instill a sense of dread in his captive. The door squeaked loudly on its hinges as he eased it open and entered the room._

_Belmont hung from ceiling shackles, wide eyes staring at the doorway, his breath harsh in the silent room. Blood ran down his arms from the metal cuffs encircling his wrists, and for some reason, John's minions had removed his shoes._

_As John stepped closer, smiling pleasantly, Belmont shrank back. "I do not fear you, demon."_

_John casually swung his arm and backhanded Belmont across his face. "Then you are even more foolish than I suspected." John laughed, low and gritty. "I have plans for you that will last hundreds of years."_

_Belmont spat out a bloody tooth and paled as John's meaning sunk in. "No. No! You can't, I have protections. Your foolish minions did not take my crucifix."_

_"And you think that will save you?" John grabbed the lapels and tore Belmont's shirt open to reveal the cross hanging on a chain about his neck. John could feel the blessed energy from it like heat on his skin, but it could never be enough to stop him getting his revenge for Gregory. He reached out with a smile and tore the crucifix away, breaking the chain and hearing the sizzle as his palm burned. Belmont's eyes grew wider as he tossed it away, and John could smell the enticing aroma of panic on him._

_John called forth his demon face and grinned widely when Belmont shuffled back as far as he could go. Stepping closer, John grasped his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. Belmont whimpered. John leaned in and licked Belmont's neck, purring, "First I will turn you into that which you hate most. You will *be* the evil, soulless being you have hunted for so many years. And for the rest of your unlife, you will know nothing but agony at my hands. You will suffer endlessly, but you will not die. I promise you torment and excruciating pain for as long as I can keep you alive."_

_Revelling in the delicious scent of fear and Belmont's futile struggles, John sank his fangs into Belmont's bare neck, savoring the hot gush of lifeblood. As he drank, he enjoyed fantasies of the horrific agony he planned for Belmont's future, and slowly the man's struggles weakened, his heartbeat, thundering at first, slowed and eventually stopped. Immediately, John raised his own wrist to his mouth and bit, tipping Belmont's head back further and pushing the bleeding wound against the soon-to-be-ex-human's slack mouth, letting a few drops of his demon blood flow past Belmont's lips to work its evil magic._

_When he stepped back, John licked his wrist until it healed, and growled softly to himself. Belmont hung limply in his chains, caught between dead and undead for the moment. John knew it would be hours before the new vampire woke to his unlife, and he had preparations to make before then. He snarled as he strolled from the room and up the stairs. Nothing he could ever do to Belmont would equal the pain of losing Gregory, but he would give it his very best._

_By the time the minion John had put on watch informed him that Belmont was awake, he was ready. The cellar was completely set up with everything he would need. A long table with manacles attached at the corners was placed off to the side. A brazier was set up in one corner, pokers at the ready. Knives, whips, clamps, and studded straps, along with various other instruments hung from the wall. Side tables were conveniently placed to hold items of interest._

_John entered the room to find Belmont demon-faced and snarling, pulling at his chains. "Release me!"_

_Striding to the wall, John selected a large, sharp knife, walked over to Belmont and thrust the knife into his stomach. Belmont yowled. John grinned. "You have no say here. Your only purpose here is to suffer for my pleasure." He twisted the knife and listened, gratified, as Belmont shrieked._

_Removing the knife, John picked up a jar on the side table and held it up to Belmont's mouth._

_"Drink."_

_The new vampire took a mouthful of the liquid inside the jar. His eyes widened and he spat the dark fluid out, spraying John. "Argh! What is this shite?" he demanded._

_John took up the knife again and, in two swift strikes, plunged it into first one, then the other of Belmont's thighs, his eyes glowing with vindication. The newly-spawned demon collapsed in his chains for a moment, then struggled to his feet, screaming in short, throaty huffs._

_"It's pig blood. We shan't have you healing too quickly; where's the point in torture if it only lasts a few moments?"_

_"I'm hungry! I need human blood!"_

_John growled. "You clearly do not take seriously your position. You'll eat what I deign to give you, if anything." He placed the knife back on the table and offered the jar again._

_"I'll not offer again. Drink it or starve."_

_Belmont grimaced, but let John tip the animal blood into his mouth, drinking swiftly. Then, before John could remove the jar from Belmont's reach, the vampire snapped at John's wrist. John jerked his arm back, and put down the jar. Then, moving so quickly Belmont never saw it coming, he punched him in the face, enjoying the crunch of bone as his jaw shattered._

_Crossing back to the wall, John chose a strong pair of pliers before returning to the whining vampire. He grabbed Belmont's broken jaw, wrenched it open, and slowly, methodically, began to yank out his fangs. Belmont bellowed as blood flowed from his empty sockets, filling his mouth and trickling down his chin._

_When he was done with the removal procedure, John took up the knife again and bent to grasp Belmont's ankle. The young vampire tried to kick free, but John was much stronger and easily held fast. Turning the foot so he had access to the sole, John began to slice long, deep gashes while Belmont screeched above him. He repeated the gory process on the other foot._

_John stood and observed his handiwork. Something was missing. He pondered that until he noticed Belmont trying to pull himself up off his shredded feet by the chains around his wrists. With an utterly evil laugh, John reached up and gripped Belmont's forearms and squeezed, tighter and tighter, until the bones snapped. There. Let the ex-hunter try to find a way to stand that wasn't an agony._

_For the time being, John was satisfied. It would take a couple days for Belmont to heal, but John didn't plan to wait that long before returning to play again. For now, he was going to retire to his sitting room and relish the wails of Gregory's killer emanating from the cellar._

Present day~~~

John was jolted out of the past when a man barreled directly into him, knocking himself off balance. John's arms came up automatically to catch the man but he jerked away.

"Idiot!" the man snarled. "Watch where you're going! Hey, what are you doing? You didn't pick-pocket me, did you?" He patted his pockets frantically and produced a wallet, thumbing through it while shooting a distrustful, angry glare at John. "Fine, it's all here. You're very lucky, you know. I have a very good lawyer who would see you doing years upon years in a maximum security prison if so much as my library card was missing!"

"Lucky me," John responded with a smirk, purposely keeping his normally sarcastic tone light. He was enjoying the man's overreaction, his interest piqued by the man's rabidity, bravado, and bright blue eyes that crackled sharply with intelligence. This one would surely make an intriguing minion.

"Yes, well. Hmmph!" As the man turned abruptly and stomped away into the nearby coffee shop, John _did_ pick his pocket, carefully sliding the man's cell phone out and hiding it in his hand.

Waiting on the sidewalk for a count of two hundred, John entered the coffee shop to find the man sitting at a table with a huge cup of something capped with a mound of whipped cream, rifling through his pockets with a panicked expression. John pulled up a chair and sat down opposite the window, ensuring that the man wouldn't notice John's lack of a reflection. Setting the phone lightly on the table, John said, "You dropped this."

"Ha!" Rodney grabbed the phone and started flipping through screens. "You _did_ pick-pocket me! I knew it! I have a vitally important call to make, and if I don't get this contract because you made me late with a phone call, I'll sue you for financial damages."

"John Sheppard."

The man blinked. "What?" He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. "Damn it! Voicemail." He spat out a scathing message that left John snickering under his non-existent breath, and stabbed the call off. "I missed the prearranged call time. This is all your fault!"

"John Sheppard," John repeated. "Thought you'd like to know my name so you would know whom to sue." He offered his hand. "And by whom do I have the pleasure of being sued?"

"Don't think I won't! I've driven better men than you to complete mental collapse and financial ruin over their miserable failings and utter inferiority. I'll own every penny you have by tomorrow night." He took John's hand and shook it automatically.

"Right," said John. "But you still haven't told me your name."

"Oh, yes, err, McKay. Dr. Rodney McKay. That's Ph.D., not M.D., so don't start telling me about any oozing rashes in places I don't want to know about."

"I promise I won't." John grinned. This man, Rodney, was very entertaining. John's interest was growing stronger by the minute. Definitely an interesting minion... perhaps more? The man was sexy as hell, with his blue eyes and crooked mouth, and clearly intelligent, which was one of John's hardcore kinks.

"So, what is your Ph.D. in?"

" _Ph.D.'s_ , plural. I have two separate Ph.D.'s in biochemistry and computer science, thank you very much. I'm pursuing a third in ancient languages," Rodney snapped.

"Whoa!" John raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "Very impressive, indeed." A mastery of computer science could be extremely useful, John thought. Especially when it came time to create new identities, a difficult thing to do in this computer-driven modern age. A facility with ancient languages would definitely come in handy when researching prophecies and such. This was good, so far. Now to explore his connections. Who would notice if Rodney suddenly disappeared? "Who do you work for?"

"I'm an independent contractor, working from home on some computer forensics for a large tech company. Someone has been hacking their system, stealing top secret files. As for the biochem, well, I _was_ working for Placet Biotech, but apparently, ah, the CEO likes to drop by occasionally, unannounced, and I may have not known what he looked like, and possibly, maybe, err, I was, uh, less than tactful? So, no more Placet Biotech." Rodney frowned, but continued, his hands constantly in motion. "I'm expecting them to call me back any day now, they can't possibly continue the work I was doing without me. I'm a genius, you know. My work is completely beyond the comprehension of anyone else on Earth, let alone a lab where they think _Kavanagh_ has something to contribute."

Better and better. John smirked, and poked Rodney right where he suspected would draw the biggest reaction. "A genius. Really?"

Rodney sputtered a moment, glared at John and waved a finger in his face. "Yes, of course _really_! I have an I.Q. of 194. I'm working on my _third_ Ph.D. _in my spare time_! I can think rings around you and anyone else on this planet without even trying. Genius! Get it?"

"Sure do." John raised an eyebrow at the pointing finger. "So, is there a Mrs. Genius? Any little geniuses running around?"

"What? Err, no. Nothing like that." Rodney blushed furiously and stared at the table. "Which is not to say that I couldn't have that, if I wanted. I'm a very attractive, obscenely intelligent man, with a great sense of humor, and women can barely keep away. Just last year there was a woman, Sam, Sam Carter, brilliant, beautiful. She could hardly keep her hands off me, though my superior intelligence intimidated her terribly and she put up a very unpleasant front... Hey, what's with all the personal questions? Are you some kind of psycho stalker? That figures, just my luck, walking down the street minding my own business -"

"I'm not a stalker," John lied glibly, chuckling to himself.

"No? Then why all the -? Hey!" Rodney's eyes grew comically wide. "You're hitting on me, aren't you? Yes! Yes you are!" He seemed flustered and embarrassed, but not upset or disgusted, so John was encouraged to be truthful.

"Actually, yes, I am." John flashed his most charming smile. "What do you say we get out of here and go have some dinner? I know a very nice place down the street we could get into without reservations on a Tuesday night."

"But. Well. This is very sudden. Do you always hit on people ten minutes after you've met them?" Rodney fiddled restlessly with his empty cup.

"Yes. And I find you very attractive. Handsome man, obscenely intelligent, great sense of humor, just like you said. What's not to want?" John laid his hand over Rodney's. "Do you enjoy seafood?"

Rodney stared at their hands. "Yes. Well, no. I mean, I rarely ever have it. No matter how many times you tell the waiter to make sure the chef leaves it off, the lovely seafood dinner still usually appears topped by a generous squirt of lemon death."

"Lemon death?"

"I'm deathly allergic to citrus of any kind. I find that anaphylaxis is not part and parcel of a good meal." Rodney raised his chin defiantly, as if certain that was a dealbreaker.

"This is a good place, the chefs pay close attention to that sort of thing. And you don't have to have seafood, they have an excellent menu. But I'll take care of it, I promise." John stood, just barely restraining himself from offering his arm. After a moment's hesitation, Rodney joined him.

While it was true that vampires didn't usually bother with human food, John enjoyed it greatly. For four hundred years his favorite hunting technique had involved seducing a victim over a lavish meal. One of John's minions had been a private chef in life and now ran his kitchen. John kept track of the upscale restaurants in the area with no mirrors on the walls, and the ones with tableside chefs, usually there to flambé things under your very nose, which, no.

As John had predicted, the restaurant was not busy, so the maitre'd genially seated them in a quiet corner, then left to bring the chef as John requested. When he appeared at their table, John smelled the demon blood running through the chef's veins and knew that the white chef's hat he wore hid the long, pointed ears of a Ganat demon. He stood, taking his arm. "Walk with me," he murmured and the two headed toward the kitchen for a chat.

"My guest has a deadly allergy to citrus of all kinds. Nothing of that nature is to touch his plate or mine." John flashed his demon face for an instant, and the chef paled. "Or there will be _trouble_. Have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes, sir, err, Master. I understand completely. No citrus."

"Exactly." John smiled meanly and returned to Rodney. "The citrus issue has been taken care of, you can order anything you want with no fear."

The meal arrived, citrus-free as promised, and John enjoyed listening to Rodney ooh and ahh over the high quality food. Rodney chattered nonstop about his work, ostentatiously skipping over the "top secret" parts. He raved, hands - and food - flying, about his previous co-workers, whom John was enchanted to hear Rodney calling his "minions." He talked both between bites and _during_ , and John wondered whether Rodney would be such a messy eater as a vampire, imagined his face with blood dripping off his chin, running down his neck and chest. John began to grow hard.

His problem only worsened when dessert was served, Rodney loudly moaning over the Death by Chocolate cake. Clearly the man was a natural hedonist, and John began to think he would make a fine Childe, fantasizing about teaching him to hunt, about sharing the kill, about driving each other to heights of ecstasy.

"Come back to my place with me for after-dinner drinks," John said, once Rodney was scraping the last crumbs of chocolate off his plate.

Rodney's head popped up and he scrutinized John for several moments, leaving John wishing he had mind control abilities like the vampires in books and on television. He smiled encouragingly, with just a hint of a leer thrown in, and whatever Rodney was looking for, he must have found. He smiled back.

On the way back to the estate, Rodney's car following John's, the vampire called ahead to have Belmont gagged, so as not to create questions he wasn't ready to answer.

Once home, John led Rodney through to the den where his entertainment center was set up. John went straight to the bar to fix their drinks, watching while Rodney wandered around, looking at John's movie collection and stack of video games.

"We could watch a movie. Play a game?" John suggested.

Rodney picked up the game on the top of the pile. "You have Evil Blood. That's been around awhile."

"I like it, it's one of the few games where you can play the vampires instead of the hunters. Stick it in, let's play. Haven't you always wanted to be a vampire?"

Rodney snorted, "Yes, and if I believe in vampires, should I clap my hands?" He gave John a cheery set of jazz hands, but conspicuously didn't clap them.

John smirked. He solicitously established Rodney on the sectional with a vodka tonic at his knee and handed him a game controller with a sly wink. The scent of Rodney's growing arousal made John's fangs itch. _Down, boy!_ he said to himself with only a semi-evil grin.

"What? What? No, don't try that on me," Squawked Rodney. "I'm already onto you and your cheating ways!"

"Cheating ways?"

"You're trying to mesmerize me with your slippery wiles! You're afraid I'm going to win, as you should be, because I am going to wipe the floor with you - guaranteed - so you're smirking and winking and making me all...flummoxed!"

Aaaaand there went the pointing finger again. John chuckled and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Rodney, thighs pressed close. Picking up his controller, he challenged, "Game on!"

They trash-talked each other through the next hour and several levels, John repeatedly distracted by the delicious thump of Rodney's heart, the hot scent rising with his excitement and his more and more obvious erection.

"Why can you handle the cross when I can't?" Rodney poked John in the ribs with his very sharp elbow.

"You've lost most of your humanity points, my friend." John tangled his arm with Rodney's and leaned solidly into his side.

"Bah, humanity! Weakness! Impotence! What use is it?."

"So you're giving it up the first chance you get?" John grinned, imagining what Rodney's demon face would look like.

"I'm told I have none, so why not? Ha! Take that! My minions are sneakier than your minions!" Rodney crowed.

"But I've acquired the magical amulet! I win!" John raised his hands in a victory fistpump just as Rodney suddenly threw down his controller, tackled John onto his back and pressed their lips together in an awkward kiss.

John was so surprised he nearly reacted out of instinct, using his demonic strength to shove Rodney across the room, but the sensation of warm, living lips against his caught up with him just in time. The heavy heat of Rodney's solid body bearing him down into the cushions caused John's erection to ache with desire, and he felt Rodney's length press into his.

Rodney's hands firm on John's shoulders and his tongue teasing along John's lips made him growl softly, deep in his throat. He opened his mouth and Rodney thrust his tongue in to explore, wet and slick and tasting so deliciously human. Deepening the kiss, Rodney released one hand and pushed it between them to cup John's cock through his pants.

Fighting to keep his demon face under control, John pulled back, panting unnecessarily. He thrust up into Rodney's hand and gathered his control. "Let's take this upstairs."

"Mmmm, yes, I thought you'd never ask." Rodney leaned in for another kiss before standing, swaying slightly and grabbing John's arm when he stood as well. "Which way?" Rodney started dragging John in a random direction until John took over and led them to the stairway.

When they reached the bedroom, John took Rodney by the upper arms, pressed him into the wall and buried his face in his neck, inhaling deeply, savoring the spicy, mouth-watering scent of a turned-on Rodney. He licked his neck, placing biting kisses up and down his jugular. Rodney squirmed and rubbed his hard cock against John's.

"Bed, bed," muttered Rodney. "We need to be in bed now."

"You're in such a hurry. You know, I'd planned to make the first move."

"But you never did! You were taking so long I thought you'd changed your mind, but then you kept on with the thighs and the leaning, so I decided to get the show on the road."

"Oh yeah? Well, how do you like this move?" John grinned widely and spun them both, walking so that Rodney was moving backward toward the bed. When they got close enough, John gave him a shove and he landed on his back in the middle of it. John immediately climbed up to straddle him.

Rodney's startled expression passed quickly, and he gave John a leer. "So far, so good. Now, I want you to fuck me. Do you have supplies?"

John's predilections rarely ran to rape, so yes, he had supplies for just these occasions. "Yeah, in the drawer right here," he said, reaching for the lube and a condom and laying them by Rodney's hip. "Clothes," he said. "Off."

Their arms tangled as John grasped Rodney's belt and Rodney wrestled with John's shirt buttons, but eventually, John was shirtless and Rodney's pants were wrapped around his knees. John knelt up while Rodney kicked them off, then they each tackled their own remaining clothing, leaving them both sitting naked on the bed, sharing heated gazes.

John placed a hand on Rodney's bare chest, relishing the sweet thudding of his heart, and pushed, following him down and covering his body with his own. Rodney sighed happily and John took the opportunity to explore his mouth, keeping his fangs in check as he tongued Rodney's cheeks and teeth, bit at his lips, jaw, chin. He brushed kisses and soft, sharp bites down Rodney's neck and across his chest, stopping briefly at a nipple and sucking at it while Rodney gasped and said, "Yes, harder!" when he bit down.

Hearing Rodney downright _request_ to be bitten nearly brought John to orgasm. He lost control of his demon face for a split second and scored Rodney's pectoral with a sharp fang. A drop of dark, beautiful blood welled up and John shuddered as he licked away the delicious nectar, rich with desire and full of life. John had to force himself to keep to his plan instead of just taking Rodney right then and there, but he definitely needed to speed things up before he lost control completely.

He eased himself down until he was able to bury his nose in Rodney's thick, dark pubic hair, inhaling the damp, musky, male smell that turned him on so much. Grasping Rodney's dick with his hand he licked the engorged head and smiled when Rodney drew in a loud breath and shouted, "Oh hell, yes!"

John opened his mouth and took Rodney to the root with one bob of his head.

"Ah, so good, John!" Rodney's hand came down and lay at the back of John's head, not pressing, just resting there. John swallowed around Rodney's cock before rising back up slowly, licking and sucking the whole way. He loved the feel of Rodney's cock in his mouth, pulsing with life, filled to bursting with blood, throbbing along with his heartbeat, faster and faster. Sinking down again, John began to bob skillfully, immersed in the sounds of Rodney's cries of pleasure and his rapid, thundering pulse. He knew Rodney was close, and in the moment before he peaked, John let go with his mouth and, stroking with his hand, he let his demon visage rise and turned his head, sinking his fangs into Rodney's femoral artery just as his climax hit him and he screamed his ecstasy.

While Rodney shot white streams of come over his chest and belly, John sucked down great gulps of sweet blood, thick with the flavor of Rodney's orgasm, sharp and tingly on his tongue. He listened to Rodney's pulse slowing, felt his cock softening in his hand. Before Rodney passed out, though, John raised his head and grabbed the lube. He slicked up two fingers and eased them back to Rodney's hole, circling gently. Rodney hummed a pleased, lazy sound.

John knew Rodney was as relaxed as he was going to get. As relaxed, really, as he would ever be again until he woke to his new life. John pressed his fingers into him and spread the lube around, stretching him easily.

"Mmmmm," Rodney murmured, eyes closed. "You gon' f'ck me now?"

"Yes." John removed his fingers and wiped them on the comforter. He positioned himself and thrust in slowly, smoothly, encountering no resistance. Rodney was too out of it to notice John hadn't put on the condom. John fell forward onto his arms and watched Rodney's face while his eyes fluttered open and went wide at the sight of John's demon face.

"Wha'... what? Wha's goin' on, what happ'ned to your face?" Rodney raised his hands to push John away, but the blood loss had made him weak and uncoordinated, and John just laughed, still moving slowly in and out of Rodney's ass. Now Rodney smelled less like arousal and more like fear, it was tantalizing, exciting.

"Nothing happened to my face, Rodney. This is my _real_ face. I'm a vampire, and you are to join me. We'll travel the world together, you and I, hunt together, see the future. You're to be my Childe and I your Sire."

"What? No, you can't! I don' even b'lieve in vampires!" Blinking rapidly, pulse rising, Rodney tried again to push John away, to no avail.

When John came closer, Rodney tried to scrunch his shoulders up to protect his vulnerable neck. "No no nooo!" John chuckled, took Rodney by the jaw and turned his head, bending down and inhaling Rodney's frantic scent. Leaning in, he first kissed, then licked the spot over Rodney's jugular, then simply sank his fangs in and drank.

Using his demonic strength to hold Rodney's arms tightly to the bed, John swallowed mouthful after mouthful of Rodney's hot, delicious lifeblood, delighting in the taste of his panic, mixed with the spicy remnants from his recent orgasm. The exquisite fire of living blood burning through John's veins drove him to thrust faster and harder, building toward his peak as the pounding of Rodney's strong heart slowed and struggled. In Rodney's final moments, as his heart stuttered and ultimately stopped, John paused, used a fang to slice open his wrist and pressed it against Rodney's open mouth, relishing the feeling of his own blood flowing down his soon-to-be Childe's throat. Long moments passed while John kept his wrist in place to ensure that Rodney received enough of his demonic blood to become a strong, capable Childe.

Removing his wrist and licking the wound closed, John resumed thrusting, hard and fast, orgasm building and building at the base of his spine until it exploded through his body, sizzling hot and electric. John roared his ecstasy as he emptied himself into Rodney. Drained, he leaned down and kissed the place where the bite would leave its mark, licking away the few last drops. When he pulled free and sat up, he was satisfied, smiling. His Childe would rise with John's come in his ass, and that was as it should be.

John fondly stroked Rodney's cheek, and stood, watching the still form on the bed with a growing excitement. He hadn't had a Childe since he'd turned Gregory two hundred years ago. Unlife was about to become more adventurous than it had been since Gregory was dusted at the end of the nineteenth century.

Which reminded him, John still had a few hours to kill before sunrise, and Rodney would not wake until sometime after the following sunset, so John dressed and headed downstairs.

Over a century ago, John had promised August Belmont a long, long unlife of pain and suffering, and he had followed through on that vow with a literal vengeance. Gregory's killer still hung from his wrists in John's cellar, most of the time keening in agony. John called a couple of his minions to go down and move Belmont from his manacles to the table, and remove his gag, while he retired to his sitting room to savor the lingering taste of Rodney on his tongue.

The minions accomplished their task quickly and reported to John. Feeling rejuvenated, he practically skipped down the stairs and entered the cellar room with a wide, evil grin and a calculating gleam in his eye. Belmont growled from his place stretched out on the table, wrists and ankles bound to the corners.

"Why hello, Belmont. It's such a pleasure to see you again," John purred. Belmont snarled and wrestled fruitlessly with his bindings. John walked to a small side table and retrieved a pair of thick, asbestos-lined leather gloves and put them on. Then he went to a cabinet on the wall and took out two items, and carried them over to where Belmont lay, naked and helpless. He held up his prizes so the ex-hunter could get a good look.

"Do you recognize these, Belmont? Surely you do, you used them on my Gregory the night you killed him. You tried to use them on _me_ , but you failed. Tonight you get to experience them firsthand." John swung the crucifix on its chain, causing it to sparkle in the light. He tipped the glass flask of holy water to let it shine as well, and Belmont cringed.

John casually laid the crucifix on Belmont's chest, directly above his unbeating heart. Belmont screamed and writhed as smoke rose from the resultant burn, while John wandered back to the cabinet and brought back a small dropper. He moved the cross to the other side of the suffering vampire's chest and opened the bottle. Using the dropper, he began scattering drops of holy water across Belmont's body, watching them pop and sizzle as though dancing on a hot surface. John observed closely as the skin blistered and burned, pleased with the results, pleased even more by Belmont's agonized shrieks.

John worked through the night until he was pleasantly exhausted and it was nearly sunrise.

He returned to his bedroom more eagerly than he had in many long years. Rodney had not changed, of course, wouldn't wake until well after sunset, but John stood at the bedside looking down at his Childe and imagined instructing him in the ways of his new unlife. A shiver of excitement buzzed up John's spine.

John woke automatically at sunset, wrapped around Rodney's still form. It would be several hours yet until he woke, and John had preparations to make. He dressed and left the house in a rush of anticipation. There was a club downtown that catered to a younger crowd, where John often hunted. He headed there now, looking for a special treat for his Childe's first kill.

Sevens was a vampire buffet, nearly claustrophobic with teenagers and young twenty-somethings trying to hook up. John browsed with glee as he wandered the crowd, music pounding through his body like a faux-heartbeat. He watched the dancing for a while, but nothing struck his fancy.

Then he spied two young women at a table, both giving him the eye, and smiled. As he approached the table, he heard one girl whisper to the other, "Now remember, whoever loses theirs first, wins." John wondered what that might mean, but as soon as he introduced himself and sat down he realized, virgins! What a rare condition these days, and such a tantalizing scent. They simpered and giggled artlessly, and he knew he'd struck gold. This would be perfect for Rodney.

Before long, he was leading them into his sitting room and fixing them drinks. Surreptitiously, he added just a pinch of drauk root powder to each drink and chatted amiably until both girls nodded off into a deep sleep.

He hefted one over each shoulder and carried them up to the bedroom, where Rodney would be waking soon, and laid them down in the corner.

To his delight, John felt a small stirring at the back of his mind and went to the bed to watch his Childe wake. Rodney's head shifted slightly on the pillow, and then slowly, oh so slowly, his demon face emerged and his eyes opened. John drew in an unneeded breath at Rodney's beauty, the perfect ridges, gorgeous yellow eyes, fine, strong fangs. He let his own demon face rise, and Rodney's eyes snapped to his and he growled, "Sire?"

"Yes, Childe."

"You turned me! I can't believe you turned me into a vampire! I don't even believe in vampires!" Rodney shrieked.

John laughed. He knew the next subject as soon as he saw Rodney frown deeply.

"John, you bastard." He groaned. "Sire, I'm hungry."

"Come then, your first meal is to be from your Sire." John pulled Rodney into a sitting position, lifted his wrist and bit, then pressed it to Rodney's mouth.

"Drink, Childe," he urged.

Rodney latched onto John's wrist and held it tightly, drinking as quickly as he could. John grew hard immediately. He had forgotten the intensely erotic feeling of being fed upon by a Childe, and relished the heady sensation until he began to feel lightheaded.

"Enough." He tried to pull his arm away, but Rodney just held tighter. John yanked his wrist free. "Enough!"

"But I'm still hungry!" Rodney growled plaintively, trying to reach for John's wrist again.

"Yes, we'll take care of that right now." John rose and gestured to the corner where the two young women slept. "Look what I found."

"What you...? Oh!" Rodney's eyes flashed. "I can hear their heartbeats! And what is that luscious smell, like eggs and bacon, only better!"

John laughed. "That's their normal human food smell. But these two have an extra bonus scent, because they are virgins. It's like caviar. Scent them again."

"Ooh, yes! You're right, so delicious! You brought me virgins? Do we only eat virgins? Can we have them now? I'm so hungry!" John smiled, amazed that Rodney could give him 'puppy eyes' even in his demon face. He stroked his Childe's cheek fondly.

"No, we don't only eat virgins, this is a special treat for your first kill. And yes, now." He went to the corner and picked one of the girls up. He brought her to the bed, laid her down beside Rodney and shook her briskly to wake her up. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!"

She moaned softly and rubbed her eyes, opening them slowly. Looking up into two demonic faces with mouths full of fangs, she screamed and tried to crawl away off the bed. John captured her easily and held her down. "First lesson," he said. "You are stronger than any human, so their struggles? Are just for your enjoyment. Here, take her." John let go and she started to scramble away again, shrieking.

Rodney had no trouble grabbing her and slamming her back to the bed. "What's your name, little one?" He peered into her wide, tear-filled eyes. "Tell me your name."

"Sh-Sh-Shanon." She sobbed. Rodney straddled her and held her hands down. When she discovered that she could not move an inch, all the fight seemed to suddenly melt out of her. Tears ran down her face. "Are you g-going to r-rape me?"

"Why would I do that? It would ruin that lovely virgin blood of yours," Rodney crooned.

"Are you going to k-kill me?"

"Oh yes, most certainly," Rodney grinned. "Poor Shanon."

"Will it hurt?" Shanon whimpered.

Rodney turn questioning eyes on John, who was thoroughly enjoying the show.

"Only if you want it to, Childe. Usually a vampire bite is very pleasant."

"There, you see? It won't hurt a bit. Say your prayers, Poor Shanon." He bent his head to her neck and sniffed out the perfect spot, just over her jugular, and John watched hungrily as his Childe sank his new fangs in deep. All three of them moaned. John could hear Shanon's frantic pulse beating in her chest, knew Rodney could feel it against his tongue. He imagined the taste of it: hot, sweet, virgin blood, mixed liberally with fear and panic, and he hardened further in his pants.

Eventually, Shanon's racing heart slowed, _thud-thud...thud...thud_ , and stopped. Rodney sat up and yes, just as John had fantasized, he had blood dripping down his chin and onto his chest. Impulsively, John leaned forward, growling, and began to lick it off, dropping his hand to Rodney's groin to squeeze his rigid shaft.

"Ohhh, yes! Do we...? Can we...? I just want you so much right now!" Rodney begged, seizing John's hand and pressing it down, lifting his hips, striving for friction.

With a laugh, John pushed Poor Shanon's body off the far side of the bed and tipped Rodney onto his back. "Yes," he said, scraping a kiss across Rodney's jaw. "We can. We do. And now is perfect." He sat up to stare at his Childe, naked and hard and beautiful. Lust sizzled along his nerves and he grinned slyly. Rodney reached up to tug on John's belt with a hungry expression and he stripped quickly, tossing clothes in random directions, his shirt landing on Poor Shanon's face.

They fell upon one another ravenously, snarling and growling, biting and clawing. John thrilled to the pleasure of marking his Childe all over, leaving bloody fang marks decorating Rodney's skin everywhere he could reach. Hissing and groaning, Rodney returned the favor, biting and licking his Sire's body, digging in his sharp claws and driving John to distraction.

Quickly, John grabbed the lube from the folds of the comforter where it had lain since last night, and applied a liberal squirt directly to his stiff, dark red cock, slicking himself up. Then he lifted Rodney's legs over his shoulders and shoved in deep, garnering a howl of pleasure from his Childe. John pumped his hips viciously, bare skin smacking lewdly against Rodney's ass and causing the headboard of the bed to thump rhythmically against the wall. His passion rose hotter and higher as he drove his cock into his Childe.

One of Rodney's hands was frantically stripping his cock as he chased his pleasure, the other was raised to his mouth, fangs latched onto his own wrist. John reached down to remove Rodney's arm from his mouth and replaced it with his own, the delicious pain of the bite sending a shock of electricity zinging through his body. His orgasm was rushing at him fast, so he turned his head and sank his fangs into his Childe's leg, swallowing the sharp, demonic blood and coming with a furious shout. John slammed Rodney's ass hard twice more and Rodney froze, striping his chest and belly, howling like a banshee.

John pulled out and collapsed to the side and lay admiring his Childe's demon face. Impulsively, he reached out and pricked his index finger on one of Rodney's fangs, and hummed with pleasure when Rodney latched on and sucked the tiny drops of blood away.

"Sire, I'm still hungry," Rodney mumbled around John's finger.

"Well, let's wake Nina."

Rodney smiled brightly and hopped out of bed, John following. Roughly, Rodney lifted the sleeping girl by her upper arms into a standing position. Her head lolled enticingly and he shook her a little. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"I gave her drauk root powder, she'll only wake up for me," John replied and grabbed a fistful of Nina's hair and pulled her head back. "Wake up, sweetheart, you won't want to miss this."

Her eyes blinked slowly open and she stared for a moment at the two vampires, naked and covered with bloody, slowly healing bite marks, then she started to scream and struggle, twisting and turning in Rodney's easy grip. He changed his hold to that of a lover, embracing her tightly and dipping his nose to the crook of her neck, and John knew he was inhaling the spicy scent of her fear and horror, while she pounded on him uselessly with her fists.

John moved in behind her, retaining his purchase on her hair, and reached around her to hold his Childe. Rodney raised his eyes to John's and said, "Together?" John grinned and pulled Nina's head back as far as it could go, then they simultaneously dropped their mouths to her jugular and bit deeply.

Her struggles weakened as they drank, and soon Rodney's grasp was the only thing holding her upright as Sire and Childe feasted.

Suddenly, Rodney pushed her away and she fell to the floor, barely conscious. He held his hands out in front of himself, staring and turning them this way and that. "Wait, what?" he asked in an oddly high voice. He felt at his face and asked, "How do I change back?"

"Just concentrate on your human face and it will happen," John said, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Rodney shook his head and his human mask appeared. John grew more worried as he noted that Rodney's face was flushed and his lips were swollen, a red rash was spreading quickly across his chest, arms and up his neck.

"I'm having an allergic reaction!" He said, eyes wide. "She's not dead yet, right? Ask her if she ate something citrus!"

John dropped to the floor and took Nina's face in his hands, shaking away his demon face. "Nina, pay attention. I need you to think, did you have anything citrus today?"

"Wha'?" she slurred. "Cit... cit...?"

"Come on," John tried again. "Citrus. Orange juice, grapefruit in a salad, lemon in your iced tea. Citrus."

"Had... had some soda... with lime. At-at Sevens... before you came," she mumbled.

"What?" Squawked Rodney, voice thin and reedy. "You were hunting for _me_ and you hunted someone who was eating citrus?" He was scratching desperately at his throat and arms.

"You heard what she said, Rodney, she had it before I got there. And I've never even heard of this happening," John protested. "I thought vampires were immune to allergies."

"Well... clearly you... thought wrong. Where... are my pants? I need... my epi-pen." Rodney was really struggling to talk. He flailed. "I can't... breathe."

"You don't need to breathe, Childe, remember?" John picked up Rodney's pants and handed them to him. "Do you think it will work? Human medicines don't usually have any effect on vampires."

Rodney took his pants, plucking his epi-pen out of the front pocket. "I think... it's worth... a try," he wheezed, as he jabbed the needle into his thigh and counted to ten. Rubbing the spot, he managed, "And... if I can't... breathe, I... can't... talk."

"Well, we can't have that." John smirked. Then he took the used device, tossed it into the wastebasket and grasped Rodney by the shoulders, pushing him gently back to the bed, situating him at the headboard and climbing in to join him.

"How long does it usually take to work?" He asked.

This time Rodney's mouth worked but no air or sound came out. By this point Rodney was scratching frantically at his arms and chest and glaring daggers at John. He signaled for writing material and John rummaged through the bedside table drawer and pulled out a notepad and a pen. Rodney grabbed them and began writing furiously.

 _It's clearly *not* working!_ he wrote. _Now what do we do? Normally this would last until the epi-pen worked or I died. Can I still die? I can't die, right? Aren't I already dead? Dead people can't die again, right? Right?_ He passed the notepad to John.

"Calm down, Childe. Yes, you are already dead, so you can't die. There are demon doctors we can consult. One will come to the house if you would like."

 _Oh my GOD, did you say *demon* doctor?_ Rodney's eyes suddenly went wide and he dropped the notepad, scanning his arms, legs and body thoroughly, then he slumped and retrieved the pen and pad. _Okay, good, good, that's good. No bursting into flames from saying God. So, demon doctor. Yes, if that is my only choice, call one. I don't want to be stuck like this forever. By the way, you might as well finish Nina, I don't want any more of that, even if I could swallow. Hey! I can't eat!_ Rodney threw the pad at John and grabbed at his own throat, glaring.

John smacked his Childe upside the head and said, "stop panicking. You just ate, so you're not going to go hungry for a while. I'm calling for the doctor now. Stop scratching, you'll only make it worse."

He slid out of bed and retrieved his cellphone to call the butler, whom he instructed to send for the doctor, and also to send up a couple of minions to take Nina and Poor Shanon away. While he was instructing the butler, the notepad smacked him in the back of the head. He turned back and glared at Rodney, who was smirking and scratching on the bed. He picked it up and read it. _Clean clothes!_ "And send someone to buy clothes for Rodney. I have his sizes."

On the way back to the bed he lifted Nina from the floor and finished draining her, finding her taste almost tainted after Rodney's reaction, even her sweet virgin essence not nearly as enjoyable.

Rodney watched him with a pensive expression and began scribbling on the notepad as soon as John returned it to him.

_Sire, we just murdered two innocent human beings. Why don't I feel guilty?_

"We're vampires, Childe. Demons. We are innately evil, you don't have a conscience any more," John reassured him. "You'll get used to not having shame and remorse to bother you."

John spent the time waiting for the doctor trying to distract Rodney from scratching by suggesting mutual handjobs, which sent Rodney off on a six page rant about what a lousy Sire John was, and how he'd better watch out for open window shades in the future.

When the demon physician arrived, it became clear that Rodney's condition was rare, if not unique. The doctor waved an enchanted stone carving over Rodney and it glowed blue. "Two days. It will pass," he rumbled. Then he handed John a jar of smelly herbal ointment to soothe his Childe's itching, packed up his bag and left.

The next night saw Rodney furiously writing note after note and shoving them in John's face.

_I can't eat. I'm starving! I used to be hypoglycemic, how do we know I'm not still? I may collapse at any moment! I feel faint._

And:

_Damn, but that ointment stinks! And it's slimy. I can't imagine what it must be made from. Snail guts and durian, I'd be willing to bet. And it's ON me, gah! I'm still itchy._

John, on the other hand, began to avoid the flurry of paper by disappearing down to the cellar to make Belmont's unlife miserable. So, naturally, the tenor of the notes changed to questions about the screaming and wailing issuing from downstairs. John waved it off with a muttered response about "a plaything in the cellar," and Rodney was so distracted by his situation that he didn't ask any further.

Then John came into his sitting room to find this note pinned to his chair:

_How am I ever going to eat? Even when this gets better, I'll still be allergic. I can't just nab someone off the street not knowing whether they have consumed citrus in the last day! I'm still going to starve!_

He found Rodney pacing frantically in the den, wide-eyed and terrified looking.

Embracing his Childe he soothed, "No, Childe. You won't starve. We will work this out. I'm going hunting now, and I'll bring you back a meal that we can keep in an empty cell in the cellar until you are better. By then it should be safe for you to feed. If we have to do this every night, we will. It will be okay, I promise."

Rodney stepped back and stared grimly into his Sire's eyes while John tried to project confidence and reassurance. Then he nodded and threw himself down onto the sofa and waved John away as if he hadn't a care.

John came home with a very large, strong human male built like a linebacker, who had been very surprised that John, who was half his size, had overpowered him and bound and gagged him against his will. Rodney helped John carry the man down to the cell and bind him in manacles. They stepped back and watched while the man started pulling at the chains. His muscles bulged.

 _He's very big._ Rodney wrote.

"I thought you'd need a large meal after going without for two days," John said. 'The meal's' eyes grew huge and he resumed wrestling with his chains. John watched with amusement and Rodney gazed on hungrily as the man struggled, screams muffled by his gag.

Two nights after his allergy attack, Rodney woke at sunset to find he had his voice back, though it was still high and thin.

"John, wake up! I can talk, I can swallow, I can eat! Come on, wake up, let's go downstairs." Rodney shook John's shoulder and he opened his eyes blearily.

"Wha'?"

"I'm _hungry_! Let's go!"

Rodney scrambled out of bed, pulling his Sire with him, and before John knew it they were in the cell, Rodney rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

John walked over to a small table in the corner and came back, clasped Rodney's shoulder and handed him a key. Rodney looked at him questioningly.

"To the manacles," John said.

"I'm too hungry to play, Sire," Rodney said, turning the key over in his hand.

"Never too hungry to play a little, Childe, " John assured him with a grin and leaned in, kissing Rodney's soft human mouth. Then he let his demon face rise and sliced a fang across Rodney's lower lip and licked away the droplets of blood that beaded. He watched his Childe's demon face appear with a low growl, smacked him on the ass and said, "bon appetit!"

They turned together to see that the chained man was cowering in the corner. His yelling was muffled by the gag, so Rodney strode forward and swiftly removed it. Turned out it was just a litany of pleas to be let go, interspersed with threats should one of them come near.

Rodney approached with a smile and the man swung out a fist, striking him across the jaw. Rodney's smile brightened and he laughed. He grabbed the man by the wrist and slammed him into the wall. He slumped to the floor, blinking dazedly.

"What's your name?" Rodney asked, taking hold of the man by the hair.

"No," the man mumbled. "Not going to tell you."

"I _said_ , what's your name?" Rodney demanded, thumping the man's head against the wall.

"No!"

"Let's just call him Steve," John said. "Steve is good."

"Fine, fine." Rodney waved a hand. "Now then, Steve, what exactly did you think to accomplish by hitting me? It's obvious to me by the amount of time you evidently spend lifting very heavy things just to put them back down again, that you have the IQ of a carrot. And I know that morons with big muscles tend to hit first and question later, if ever, but did you honestly think to best me? Really? I'd hit you back, but I'm still learning my strength, Steve, and I want you to be conscious when I eat you." Rodney flashed a lopsided, fang-filled grin. He unlocked the manacles and laughed at the man's desperate look of hope.

As the man scrambled to his feet, hyperventilating, looking wildly around the room for a way out, Rodney walked over and helpfully opened the door, waving his hand in offer. Steve hesitated, looking suspiciously between John and Rodney, then dashed for the offered freedom. Faster than any human, Rodney caught him from behind and held him tightly. Tilting the man's head by his hair, Rodney finally sank his teeth into his neck, swallowing deeply. After two days and nights gone hungry, Rodney gloried in the hot, delicious lifeblood, spiced with fear and fury, sparking on his tongue and sizzling in his veins.

When he was finished, Rodney dropped the man to the floor. "What do we do with the bodies?" he asked.

"There is a door at the end of the hall that leads down into the sewer system. The minions take them through the tunnels and sell them to the Mnereth demon clan over on the east side. I think they eat them," John explained.

Rodney shook off his demon face and grimaced. "Well... okay then." He rubbed his forearm roughly. "Sire, my skin still itches."

"Aren't the hives gone?" John asked.

"Yeah, they are, especially since I've eaten. They are completely gone. I shouldn't be still itching, but..." He pulled up his sleeve to double-check, finding clear skin and frowning.

"I think I know what it is," John said. "I've been itchy all over for the past few days myself. I think someone is tampering with the Hellmouth."

Rodney made a confused face so John explained, "It's the actual opening into Hell. It's secured by very powerful magics to keep it closed, but there are always demons who want to open it and set free Hell on Earth."

"Hell on Earth? Well, that's stupid, the human world would be utterly destroyed! What kind of morons are they? We _need_ humans," Rodney sputtered, then his face went dreamy. "Filet mignon on the hoof. Mmmmmm!"

" _We_ need humans. Vampires. Most demons would much rather see them wiped out." John checked his watch. "Come on, let's go hunting. On the way we can swing by the Hellmouth and check up on whatever is going on there."

"We'll have to bring back another meal for me for tomorrow night," Rodney reminded, following John up the stairs.

"Yes, and I have an idea about that, by the way. I thought we could get my friend Tarrisz, a very old and knowledgeable Kint'oc demon sorcerer, to teach you a spell or a charm that would let you know if a human had ingested citrus, or if human blood available by other sources was contaminated."

Rodney lit up at the idea, but then his face fell. "But what if I can't do it? Are all vampires able to do magic?"

John stopped, took Rodney in his arms and kissed him deeply. They both moaned, hands roaming greedily. Biting a line of sharp kisses with his human teeth along Rodney's jaw, John whispered into his ear, "Yes, Childe. There are very few vampires who can't channel at least a little bit of magic." He playfully slapped Rodney on the ass and stepped back. "Come now, I'm hungry."

John drove them into town and parked on an ill-lit side street. John led Rodney down a dark alley to a door under a single dim bulb, and went through the door into a drab but loud room filled with creatures Rodney had never even imagined. Fur and scales, horns and hooves, claws and tentacles, the crowd scattered at tables around the room was clearly demonic, and Rodney clutched at John's arm.

"It's okay, Bernie has the place warded against fighting," John reassured, leading the way to the grimy bar at the front of the room. "Hello, Bernie," he said, a silky, sly note creeping into his voice. "How's business?"

The pale, greasy-haired bartender turned a pinched face to John and replied, "Same old, same old, Master John. What can I do for you?" His beady eyes roamed over Rodney and he leered, "Who's your new friend?"

John wrapped an arm around Rodney's shoulders and said in a low growl, "Meet my new Childe, Dr. Rodney McKay. You may call him Master Rodney. Or I'll rip your throat out."

Bernie went even paler. "Yes, sir, Master John. No problem at all, I completely understand." He wrung his hands and asked again, "Is there anythin' I can get you? The house red is a lovely O positive right now."

"Looking for some information, Bernie. Feels like somebody is messing with the Hellmouth. Have you heard anything?" John leaned forward, letting his demon face come forth. "I'd really appreciate anything you could tell me."

"No, Master John, I don't know nothin' about that, I swear." His eyes darted around the room and he reached to pick up a cloth and began scrubbing at a spot on the bar. "Nothin' at all."

John's clawed hand closed around Bernie's wrist. "You should keep in mind, Bernie, that you are as human as the rest of them, no humans would survive the opening of the Hellmouth, if you even lived that long." He loosed his grip with a shove and started to push back from the bar.

"Hey John! How are you these days?" bubbled a nearby demon, nearly bouncing on its feet with goodwill. It stood on two legs like a human, but its face looked like a labrador puppy would look if it had green scales all over.

"Oh, hello, Tripid," John said. "I'm fine. Just looking for information about whatever is going on with the Hellmouth lately."

"Hmm, don't know anything about that. There are some new demons just come into the area, though. No one seems to know who they are or what they call themselves, but word is they came over from the Middle East," Tripid said with a tongue-lolling grin. "By the way, how goes things with Belmont?"

John cringed slightly and waved his hand to stop the demon from going further, but too quickly, Rodney said, "Belmont?"

"Sure!" Tripid gushed before John could stop him. "John captured the hunter who dusted his Consort a hundred years ago and keeps him strung up in the cellar just to torture! Isn't that awesome?"

"What? That's your 'plaything' in the cellar? You've been obsessing about this Consort for a hundred years? Seriously, John, that's not healthy." Rodney gave John an ominous glare. "Oh, we are so going to be discussing this."

"No, _Childe_ , we are not." John changed the subject abruptly. "Tripid, this is my Childe, Dr. Rodney McKay. Rodney this is my friend, Tripid of the Sataren clan."

"Oh, John, you have a new Childe, congratulations! Rodney, so lovely to meet you," Tripid enthused, offering a scaled hand in the human fashion. Rodney took it warily and shook it.

"Okay then," said John, briskly rubbing his hands. "We have to go now. I haven't fed yet tonight and I'm hungry. Rodney, bring up your demon face so you can see clearly in the dark, we're going out the back way and into the tunnels."

They all said their goodbyes and John made his way to a graffiti-covered metal door in the back of the room, Rodney following closely on his heels as they went through it. Descending several flights of metal stairs, they reached one of the main tunnels and set out down the dank corridor, Rodney complaining the whole way about the stench, the slime and the rats, John shushing him constantly.

"Damn, it stinks down here! How can you stand it?" Rodney groused, waving his hand in front of his nose.

"It's a sewer tunnel, Rodney, did you expect the delicate scent of lavender?" John snarked.

"Yikes! What was that? Was that a rat? There's another one, this place is crawling with vermin!" Rodney stumbled away from the pair of rats and put his hand to the wall. "Ack! The walls are covered with slime! Probably some festering bacteria that will consume my undead flesh slowly and painfully and leave me horribly disfigured for eternity!"

"Rodney, the only thing that is going to consume you is the Jemdic demon who will hear you screeching if you don't hush up. Now be quiet. We don't want to attract attention down here," John warned, shaking his head.

"Jemdic demon? You didn't mention any vampire-eating demons in the tunnels! Isn't there another way?" Even in his demon face Rodney looked wide-eyed and fearful.

"Rodney, seriously, just calm down. I will protect you, okay? Now stop shouting and be quiet, we're getting closer and we don't know what we'll find, best for us not to be noticed." John stopped, placed a comforting hand on Rodney's shoulder and squeezed, then they continued on.

As they closed in on the Hellmouth, the strange buzz and awful skin-itch increased to the point that Rodney was scratching furiously at his arms and chest. Finally, John stopped and turned to Rodney.

"We're almost there, it's just up around the next corner. Be very quiet, we don't want to be seen or heard until we know what we are up against."

As they crept around the corner, they saw that the space was empty, but showed signs of having not been very recently. Guttering torches lay, cast aside. Symbols were drawn in what looked and smelled like human blood on the floor. John walked carefully around them and examined all the empty corners and crevices. "Do you still have your notebook from when you couldn't talk?" he asked Rodney.

"Yes, why?"

"Copy down these symbols so that we can research them."

"Well," Rodney said distractedly, copying diligently. "I can tell you that this one right here looks very familiar."

"That's great to hear, we'll start with languages you know."

"Alright, I'm finished. Can we leave here now? This itching is almost as bad as the hives were," Rodney said, still scratching.

"Almost?" John asked, eyes wide. His itching was driving him crazy. "I'll definitely make sure you never have hives again."

The next couple of hours John spent teaching his Childe the finer points of choosing, tracking, wooing and disposing of a victim, and once John had fed, he let Rodney practice the choosing and tracking parts, and then helped him capture his chosen victim to take home for tomorrow night's dinner.

Once in the car, Rodney badgered John into swinging by his apartment to pick up his computer for research.

"I have a whole library full of research materials at the house, Rodney."

"I have a whole _internet_ full of research materials, John. Oh my god, you do have internet access at home, right? You're not," he shuddered, " _internetless?_ "

"Yes, Childe, I have internet."

"And it's high-speed broadband, not DSL or, god forbid, dial-up?"

"It's state of the art, Rodney, wireless and everything. Who even offers dial-up anymore?"

"Just checking, just checking." But he looked very relieved.

Once back home, and having stored Rodney's meal in the cellar, John showed him to his office, whereupon Rodney immediately made himself comfortable at the empty table while John sat in front of his own desk and booted up his computer.

Rodney quickly lost himself in his research, starting with determining the origins of the symbols from the Hellmouth floor. John, on the other hand, wandered in and out between the office and the library, carrying huge, dusty tomes and frowning.

"Sire, I think I have something," Rodney said after several long hours. Yawning, he leaned back to pop his neck and realized it was nearly sunrise. He looked around for John, to find him at his desk bent over a scroll. "John?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I found the language we are looking for. The symbol that I thought looked familiar is Akkadian, an ancient Mesopotamian language. I thought to check because that friend of yours, Tribble? Truffle? He said the new guys in town were from the Middle East. So now what?"

"Brilliant work, Rodney! Now we look for prophecies about the Hellmouth in the Akkadian scrolls." He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "But we do it tonight. Right now, it's bedtime." He stood and wandered over to Rodney and pulled him from his chair, nuzzling his neck and inhaling his Childe's sweet, spicy scent. He let out his demon face and nipped Rodney's earlobe, suckling gently.

"Mmmm, I like the way you think, Sire," Rodney purred, and arm in arm they ascended to the bedroom.

Shortly after sunset, John woke to a rumpled, sex-smelling, but empty bed. Frowning, he dressed and went in search of his Childe. He followed the sharp scent of coffee and eventually found Rodney in the office at his laptop, surrounded by empty coffee mugs, except for the one he was just that moment draining to the last drop.

John watched with a grin as Rodney picked up his cell phone and stabbed speed dial, waited for just a second and barked, "Coffee!" then ended the call. John remembered how thrilled Rodney had been to discover that the intra-house communications were by cell phone.

"So, enjoying your evening?" John asked.

Rodney turned to him, face lit up, rubbing his hands briskly. "Ah, yes. I have no idea why I've never engaged the services of a butler-type person before. This is fantastic! Like having my own personal Star Trek replicator, only instead of," he lowered his voice and affected an accent, "'Tea, Earl Grey, hot,' it's 'coffee, Kona, hot,' and," his eyes brightened as the butler walked into the room with a mug on a tray, "it suddenly appears!" The butler gathered the empty mugs and started to leave the room, but John stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Please inform the chef that I want a meal prepared for later. Send him to me for instructions."

"Yes, Master." The butler bowed as he turned and left the office.

"And that's another thing! I could really get used to being called 'Master'," Rodney grinned.

"You should get used to it. As my Childe, you are second only to me in the hierarchy of this house." John leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Rodney's coffee-flavored lips. "I didn't know we had coffee in the house."

"You didn't!" Rodney glared. "I had to send someone out for it. They just said, 'Yes, Master' and went! Ah, it's so lovely to have minions again!"

"Have you fed?"

"Yes, and when he saw me in demon mode and started screaming, that Belmont of yours started hollering as well. John, have you really been torturing him for a hundred years?" Rodney asked.

"Yes, I have," John said, and haltingly started to explain. "He dusted my Gregory... my Consort. We were together for over a hundred years when Belmont came along one night... and put a stake through Gregory's heart. He dusted before my very own eyes."

"What is a Consort?"

John ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "He was my first Childe. He was a handsome, brilliant man, so I turned him. We were very close, I adored him and he me. After about eight months together as Sire and Childe, we did the bonding ritual and he became my Consort. The bond connected us, we could feel what the other was feeling, sometimes even share thoughts if we wanted to. It's rather a lot like getting married, for demons."

"But he's been gone for a hundred years? John, don't you think it's time to let go? I mean," Rodney stared down at the desk and his voice was soft, small. "You have me now."

John swiftly strode to wrap his arms around his Childe. "Yes," he said soothingly, "I have you now." He drew in an unnecessary breath and heaved a great sigh. "I need some time, Rodney. I've not even thought about it before. I need to work up to it."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "One hundred years is not long enough?"

John glared.

"Okay, yeah, I guess I get it. I just don't like the idea that maybe you're thinking of Gregory when we're together." Rodney sighed.

"No, Childe. I only think of you when we're together. I swear," John promised.

The sound of a throat clearing caused them both to look up to find the chef standing in the doorway. They discussed the meal to come, John reiterated Rodney's citrus allergy and the chef left.

John gestured to Rodney's computer. "So, Akkadian you say?"

"Yes. I've been examining the documents on an archive website. Haven't found anything that looks like a prophecy yet."

"I'll go get some of the Akkadian documents from my library. Be right back."

He returned swiftly with his arms full of scrolls and books and the two vampires sat down and dove in. Rodney gave John a page of words and symbols to look for, since he wasn't proficient in the language, and a couple of hours later John sat up. "I think I have something, several of these words you gave me are showing up here."

"Let me see." Rodney came to John's desk and leaned over his shoulder, reading intently. "Yes, I think you're right."

"What does it say?"

Rodney ran his finger across the ancient writing. "It says 'In the city of lights, in the year of the birth of blah-blah, on the night of the dark moon, the Ritual of blah-blah-blah will open the Portal to the Underworld and chaos will reign forever upon the Earth."

John frowned. "How can we know if this is the year of the birth of blah-blah?"

"I say we just go with it. When is the new moon?"

John looked at the calendar on the wall. "Two days. And we still have to figure out who these demons are, so we can find their weaknesses and stop them."

"We need some sort of demonic bestiary. Do you have anything like that?" Rodney sat down at his computer and started typing.

"Yes, I do." John headed for the library again, taking the scrolls and books he'd brought before back with him. He returned with a huge, smelly, leather-bound tome and sat down in front of it.

"Here!" called Rodney, several hours later, and John rose and went to him.

"What did you find?"

"Shamash-Bel demons, 'Servants of the Underlord.' Also? Ugly," Rodney asserted, and pointed to his screen where an image of a creature with deeply wrinkled brown skin and double-jointed arms and legs showed.

"Good, good, does it tell us their strengths and weaknesses?" John asked excitedly.

"Silver is apparently deadly to them, as is beheading and also removing their anal glands. Ick!" Rodney made a disgusted face. "Hey, does that mean that there are demons that beheading _doesn't_ work on?"

John laughed. "Yes, actually. If you remove the head of a Kharhaq demon, it will just pick it up and put it back on."

Rodney's eyes went wide. "Well... huh."

"Let's go to the armory and see what we have for silver weapons." John led the way down to the cellar, down the hall and into the last room. He grinned as he waved his arm to indicate the enormous display of weapons on the walls. Rodney saw knives and daggers and dirks of all kinds, shortswords and broadswords and pikes, axes and maces, and he even saw something that looked like a bat'leth. Then he turned to the wall where John was standing. It was covered with guns. Rodney knew nothing about guns, but there were a lot of them.

"Have you ever fired a pistol or an automatic?" John asked, pulling one of each down from the wall.

'No, neither," Rodney answered worriedly.

"Then I'll give you the P90. It's mostly just point and click. I have lots of magazines full of silver bullets for both of these. Should do the trick." John handed him the automatic rifle.

Rodney took it warily. "But I don't... I've never... I mean, what if I hit you by mistake? I could do that - accidentally, of course!"

"That's why I'm going with guns instead of swords or something. Getting shot hurts, I'll admit it, but it won't kill either of us. Having you swinging a sword about randomly and accidentally beheading me... well, vampires are demons that beheading _does_ work for."

John walked over to a large cabinet and picked through it, returning with a stack of rectangular items in his hand. "Here, this is target ammunition, for practicing with, don't want to waste the silver on paper targets."

"Where did you get these?" Rodney asked, examining the P90 closely.

"From some delicious military MREs, Meals Ready to Eat," John laughed. "They usually come armed, and are very surprised to be less than the top of the food chain."

Two hours later, Rodney could successfully point the P90 at a target and blow a big hole in the torso at will, which was good enough for their purposes, and John called a meal break.

The chef had prepared a luxurious and properly citrus-free dinner, and while John enjoyed a glass of a delicious O negative with it, Rodney did not want to take the risk. At the end of the meal, they retrieved their coats and left the house for the night's hunt. Rodney again practiced his choosing and tracking, and John helped him capture and subdue his next night's meal.

John was more than delighted to have a hunting partner again, his nights had been utterly empty and lonely for over a century. Rodney was shaping up to be an excellent and exciting Childe.

It was John who woke early the following night, and had the butler send for the Kint'oc sorcerer. It was time for his Childe to have one less thing to worry about in his unlife. When Rodney finally stumbled down the stairs, calling for coffee, John and the sorcerer were in the sitting room drinking fine brandy and reminiscing about "the old days."

The butler rushed in, handing Rodney a large, steaming mug of black coffee, and he slumped down into one of the empty chairs, gulping gratefully at the strong liquid.

"Good evening, Childe." John grinned.

"Good evening to you, Sire. Who's your friend?"

"This is Tarrisz, the Kint'oc sorcerer I mentioned a few nights back. It's here to teach you how to suss out citrus contamination. Tarrisz, this is my Childe, Dr. Rodney McKay."

"It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Rodney," the demon rumbled.

"Yes, ah, very, uh, lovely to meet you as well, I'm sure," Rodney stammered at the cloaked figure, diving back in for another gulp of coffee to hide his embarrassment.

"Shall we get started?" John gestured to Tarrisz.

"Yes, certainly," the sorcerer said, and turned to Rodney. "It's actually a divination spell. Since you are not practiced with magic, I chose the simplest one I know." It pulled an object from beneath its heavy cloak and handed it to Rodney, who turned it over in his hands, examining it closely.

"A bracelet?" He asked, frowning.

"You must simply wear the bracelet, and when you wish to use the spell, say the words, 'Morea dun tra Citrus,' and anyone you look at who has consumed any citrus recently enough to be a danger to you, will appear to glow."

"Morea dun tra Citrus," Rodney murmured, still examining the bracelet. He looked up. "Hey! You're glowing!"

"Yes, I consumed an orange before I came, I thought you would need a test subject so that you would know what to expect," Tarrisz said.

"Wow, it works! Hey John, I did magic!" Rodney grinned widely. "Can anyone besides me see the glow?"

"No," said Tarrisz. "Only you."

"Okay good," Rodney said as he slid the bracelet onto his wrist. "This is very... ornate. I'm not much of a jewelry person." He bit his lip when John frowned at him. "But it's for a good cause, uh, thank you."

John sat forward suddenly. "Will this spell work on anything with citrus in it? Bottled blood, a meal at a restaurant?"

"Yes," Tarrisz responded. "It should work on anything you want to check for citrus."

Rodney was extra excited about that and the three of them made the short trek to the blood pantry, where rack upon rack of wine bottles filled with dark liquid gleamed. Rodney caressed his bracelet and said the spell. Five of the many bottles began to glow and Rodney pointed them out to John who removed them hastily. The chef was instructed to dispose of them immediately and Rodney beamed at John.

After the sorcerer left, they decided to save Rodney's meal in the cellar for the next night, and go hunting. ("John, I can hunt now, like a normal vampire, let's go!")

They came across a couple, obliviously making out on a bench in the park. Neither of them glowed when Rodney murmured the spell, so they each helped themselves to a lovely meal of tasty, citrus-free, hot lifeblood. Rodney was clearly thrilled to be able to drink safely. John was delighted to watch Rodney feed and know there was no danger of allergy.

By the time they got home they were all over each other, hands groping and grabbing, fangs nipping and slashing. They stumbled up the stairs to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, and the instant the door was closed, Rodney pushed John against the wall and sank to his knees. John sank his hands into Rodney's hair as he shook off his demon face and nuzzled deep into John's thick pubic hair. John moved one hand to grasp his glistening cock and rub precome over Rodney's soft human lips. They both moaned. Rodney licked his lips with a grin and opened his mouth, and John pressed in slowly, inch by inch, until he felt his Childe's throat muscles working around him..

For a moment, Rodney struggled and tried to push away, but then apparently remembered that he didn't actually need to breathe and relaxed around John's cock. Holding Rodney's head still, John began to thrust deeply, in and out, in and out, letting the tension and pleasure build, fiery in his veins and up and down his spine. He looked down to see that Rodney was deftly jerking his own cock in rapid strokes, leaking precome into a small puddle on the floor. Growling, he thrust faster and harder.

Hearing his Childe's high whining moans in between thrusts, John felt his orgasm building, and then Rodney stiffened and John looked down to see come spurting from Rodney's blood-red cock. The sight shoved John right over the edge and he came hard, deep in Rodney's throat, howling out his pleasure. With a final growl, he pulled Rodney to his feet and sank his fangs into his Childe's neck, savoring the gush of piquant demon blood on his tongue. He lifted his wrist to Rodney's mouth and the circle was completed.

Slack and sated, they tottered to the bed and fell upon it, sleep taking them almost instantly.

The next night was the new moon, and they woke facing a challenge, and probably a fight. They went to the cellar together and shared Rodney's stored meal and then went to the armory to gear up. John made Rodney practice unloading and reloading a few more times, and went to a cabinet and pulled out two Kevlar vests.

"Here," he handed one to Rodney. "Just in case."

By the time the moon rose, they were as thoroughly prepared as they were ever going to be, and set out through the tunnels to the Hellmouth. The horrible itching increased as they got closer; John could see Rodney resisting the desire to scratch viciously.

"I still can't believe we have to be the _good guys_. Like some kind of evil, soulless superheroes saving the world. It's just wrong. We're creatures of darkness!" John was certain Rodney thought he was whispering, but no, really not.

"Just think of it as enlightened self-interest," John replied quietly.

They fell silent as they rounded a corner and heard low chanting from the room ahead. Pulling out their weapons, they approached carefully, pausing together before turning the final corner. Rodney's eyes were wide as he clutched his weapon, and John steadied him with a strong hand to his shoulder and a smile. They peered around the corner and saw that the demons they expected were crouched around a glistening circle, tightly packed with wet red symbols clearly drawn with blood, and from the smell of it, human blood. Dark energy thrummed and seethed and smoke was rising from the circle.

There were seven Shamash-Bel demons, just as ugly in person as they were on the computer screen. Six were squatting around the circle chanting in deep, rumbly voices, and one was holding a bowl and a red-dripping brush, tracing the symbols over and over.

John gave the signal and he and Rodney stepped around the corner with their weapons raised. John's first shot went into the brush-holder, who dropped the bowl, screaming and falling and clawing at his back where the shot hit. The rest stood and reached into their vests and drew out long daggers that glinted in the torchlight.

A burst of gunfire from Rodney took out two demons who went down screaming like the first had. The four remaining rushed at them, daggers raised, but they kept on firing and before any of the demons made it across the Hellmouth floor to John and Rodney, they had all been hit by a silver bullet or six.

The Shamash-Bel demons, all seven of them, lay on the floor screeching and scrabbling at their wounds. John stepped carefully closer, kicking daggers out of reach as he went, and saw that every gunshot wound was bubbling and sizzling like acid had been poured into it and the wounds were growing, the flesh surrounding them dissolving repulsively.

The stench from the liquefying flesh was disgusting, and John grimaced as the bodies of the demons slowly melted away. Eventually, there were only seven slime-soaked vests lying in gooey puddles on the floor. John retrieved the brush and bent to carefully obliterate the symbols and the circle. Then he gathered the daggers and stood up, holstering his weapon.

"So, ready to head home?"

Rodney was still staring around the room at the puddles of molten demon goo. "That was a slaughter."

"Yeah," John said with a grin. "I like guns."

On the way back to the estate, John noticed he wasn't itching anymore and finally relaxed. The danger was past. For now. Another group would eventually come along who wanted to open the Hellmouth and set free Hell on Earth, but he had Rodney now and they made a great team. He slung an arm over his Childe's shoulders and said, "We make a great team."

"We do? I mean, yes, yes, of course we do." And that was when John discovered that Rodney could still blush, even undead.

The next few months went fairly smoothly. John thoroughly enjoyed mentoring Rodney on his hunting skills and teaching him about the demon world. They ordered a copy of the Gay Kama Sutra online and tried a new position every night. They added their own twists, biting and clawing at each other in the heat of their passion.

Rodney continued to bring up the Belmont situation now and then, but John kept brushing him off.

Rodney went back to his computer work, having told John that he wanted to bring his share into the household rather than be 'kept'. John started teaching him how to invest his money so that he would have income into his immortality.

Rodney also turned one of the rooms in the house into a lab, and John walked in on him one day holding his hand in direct sunlight and watching it carefully. To John's surprise, it didn't burn, or even smoke.

"What's going on?" John demanded.

"I made sunscreen," Rodney said with a happy grin. "SPF 100, vampire strength."

One more weapon in their arsenal due to Rodney's brilliance: they could now go out into the sun. They spent a joyous afternoon slathered head to toe in Rodney's sunscreen and hunting in broad daylight.

Walking down the sunny street, John said, "Hey, let's stop here," and towed Rodney into a small boutique that featured fancy sunglasses. He headed straight for the rack of aviator styles and started looking through them.

"Here, Rodney, what do you think of these?" John turned to show Rodney the pair he had chosen.

"Very eighties," Rodney said, smirking.

John tipped his chin down and glared over the rims.

"But sexy!" Rodney clarified, smirk firmly in place. "Very sexy."

Rodney chose a pair of round-framed John Lennon style shades and turned to John.

"Rodney, they make you look like a mad scientist!" John laughed. Rodney pouted pitifully, and John leaned over and pressed kisses to his lips until he grinned.

John paid for their choices and they walked back out into the bright daylight, arm in arm.

One evening Rodney made his way down the stairs to find John in the sitting room, leaning against the mantel and gently stroking the large golden samovar there with a distant expression.

"John?" Rodney approached. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Childe, I'm alright." But his eyes were sad. "I've just been thinking."

"Oh?"

There was a long silence, but Rodney chewed his lip and did his best to be patient.

"Gregory's dust is in this vessel," John finally said. "I've been thinking of having it buried."

Rodney nodded, at a loss for what to say. He reached out and laid his hand on his Sire's shoulder and squeezed gently. John abruptly straightened and took Rodney's other hand. "Come," he said, and led him out of the room and down the cellar stairs.

They entered Belmont's cell together, Rodney laying eyes on John's obsession for the first time as he hung, naked and filthy, from the ceiling chains. He had partially healed cuts and gouges all over his body and was standing awkwardly, one leg obviously broken.

"Hello, Belmont," John purred silkily. "I'd like you to meet my Childe, Dr. Rodney McKay. That's 'Master Rodney' to you." Belmont cringed, snarling. "He's going to become my new Consort."

Rodney's eyes flew wide and he barked out a laugh. Trust John to propose to Rodney in a conversation with someone else!

John continued smoothly. "Do you know what day it is, Belmont? It's your last day. You see, my Childe is bored with your caterwauling and whining, and I am, quite frankly, tired of sparing you the time and attention you require."

He walked to the cabinet and returned carrying a wooden stake. "Think of it this way, Belmont, you'll finally be free of these shackles. Childe, do you want to do the honors?"

Rodney looked stunned that John would consider allowing him to dust the vampire he had been obsessed with for over a hundred years. He stared at Belmont for a few moments. "No, Sire. I think you should give him his final just deserts."

"Very well."

John walked over to Belmont, who leaned away as far as he could. He flashed the captive vampire a wide, evil grin, and thrust the stake deep into his chest. Belmont howled and exploded in a shower of grey dust as John watched, feeling almost bereft after more than a century. But Rodney moved to wrap his arms around his Sire and hold tight, and John relaxed into his embrace with a sigh of relief. It was over. Finally. Belmont was gone, and soon Gregory would be put to rest. His revenge was complete. He'd had no idea that this kind of consummation would feel so good.

He nuzzled into Rodney's neck and said softly, "You really will, right?"

It took Rodney a minute to parse the question. "Of course I'll become your Consort, you ridiculous creature of darkness!" Rodney turned his head and bit John's earlobe roughly. John growled and grabbed Rodney's ass, pulling their hips together.

"What do you say we go upstairs and call Magra to come do the bonding ritual?" John suggested, rolling his hips lewdly.

"I say yes!" Rodney cut his eyes toward the pile of dust on the floor and the empty manacles gently swinging from the ceiling. "And John?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Rodney bent forward and kissed him passionately, bringing out his fangs and nipping his Sire's tongue to suck away the blood that rose.

Magra arrived within the hour, a tiny wizened demon who looked like a 90 year old Japanese woman with snaggled teeth and grey braids falling to her waist. He wasted no time setting up the ritual, lighting some herbs and waving them around the room. Then he took out an ancient-looking chalice and pulled the two vampires together.

"Demons, show yourselves!" he demanded. John and Rodney both brought forth their demon faces.

"You will each contribute some of your own blood to the ritual," he said solemnly, and held out the chalice. John and Rodney took turns biting each other's wrist and letting their blood flow into the goblet until Magra nodded that it was enough. The cup was about half full.

He took their bitten wrists, bound them together with a rough brown cord and began to chant in a low voice, clapping his hands occasionally as he did so. Suddenly, with a particularly loud clap, the blood in the chalice began to glow and Magra said, "Drink."

John drank first, savoring the delicious mix of blood from Sire and Childe, along with the spicy tang of magic. Rodney took the cup from John and looked at him questioningly. John nodded and mouthed "finish," and Rodney upended the chalice.

As Rodney handed the chalice back to Magra, John began to feel a bright buzzing sensation that slowly smoothed out into a sense of intense connection, and from the look of wonder on Rodney's face, he was feeling it, too. Experimentally, John reached out with his pleasure and excitement and "poked" Rodney through their new bond. Rodney's eyes widened and his face lit up in a huge grin.

"You are now bonded for as long as you both exist," Magra intoned, removing the cord and bowing. The vampires solemnly bowed back, fighting off laughter and mostly succeeding.

While Magra quietly gathered his things and showed himself out, Rodney turned to John with amazement on his face and asked, "Can we really feel what each other is feeling now?" John grinned, "If we want to, yes."

"Then, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

John's laughter finally broke free. "Sex?"

"Sex."

"Oh yes!" John's grin developed leering overtones. "Bonded sex is _fantastic_! Come on, Consort, let's go check the book for tonight's new position."

End

**Author's Note:**

> John turns Rodney during sex, Rodney panics when he sees John's vampire face and struggles to no avail. John continues to have sex with Rodney after his heart stops, until John comes. John regularly tortures another vampire.


End file.
